


3 AM

by mishenjared



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: College AU, M/M, Modern AU, basically a happy au because I'm still in denial and I've hit a block with my current fic, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishenjared/pseuds/mishenjared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: 3 am and the fire alarm in our apartment complex just went off let me lend you my jacket while we wait on the sidewalk</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 AM

It was horrible.

He was up finishing this powerpoint presentation for his oral reporting on his English class tomorrow. He was almost done. God damn it, he was working on the last slide. _The last slide_. Then the fire alarm just decided to ring, and before you knew it, all hell broke loose. The sprinklers went crazy, and the alarm was screaming, screaming for all the residents of the apartment complex to fucking get out of there, because there’s _fire._

Of course the first thing Neil Perry salvages is the laptop in front of him. He grabs it and its charger like his whole life depended on it, which it kind of did. The oral presentation tomorrow was worth at least a third of his grade, what with it being his final exam for the first semester of his English class in third year. Fucking that up meant another reason for his dad to look at him like a disappointment. Ever since he put his foot down and said that he was going to major in theater arts instead of getting into a pre-medicine course like his dad always wanted, his father had been extra hard on him.

“Your grades must be nothing short of As, you hear me? Or else I’ll pull you out of this nonsense road you’re taking, and have you shift your course before you can even apologize.” He can remember his father saying that with flat lips and harsh eyes like it was just yesterday. Neil didn’t even dare to take his words lightly.

And so, with only a shirt, a pair of boxers on, and his laptop clutched tightly to his chest, he proceeded down the stairs with the other occupants of the building, slightly damp and wholly irritated. He was honestly angrier than he was nervous about there being a fire. What careless asshole would set something on fire at 3 AM, while he was on the _last slide_ of his powerpoint presentation? Not to mention that he had an 8 AM class later. He was hoping to catch at least some sleep, but now he was seeing that that was impossible.

It was only after he stepped foot outside of the building did he realize that, in his rush, he didn’t slip on any kind of footwear, at all. It was January. He was in New York. Which only meant one thing: it was _freezing._

“God, can things get _any_ worse?” He muttered to himself, trying to stay close to the crowd to harbor at least a little warmth from them and their panicked chattering. As if on cue, it started snowing. He almost cursed at the sky right there and then. But instead, he settled on glaring at it.

In his peripheral, he could see thick smoke coming from one window that happened to be next his room. It was when he heard the sirens that he began to take a mental list of things that he left. _My expensive books. My notebooks. Clothes, kitchen utensils, well, at least the very few utensils that I have, my internet stick, the couch, the bed. Well, I hated that scratchy piece of shit anyway. What else… oh god. Oh god, I left my cellphone._ Neil sat down on the sidewalk and set his laptop and its charger beside him. He felt his life falling apart as he looked at the cars quickly passing by. He folded himself into a ball in an attempt to fight off the cold.

He felt someone sitting beside him.

“You’re from 303, right?” A soft voice asked him. He hardly even heard it, given the fire alarm’s incessant shrilling. Neil slowly turned to face him. He was met with a blond boy who seemed to be about his age. He had a thick and warm-looking blanket wrapped around him. He also looked really familiar, but he couldn’t quite place his face.

So a simple ‘yeah’ was the only thing that made it out of his mouth.

“I’m from across the hall. 304.” Ah, yes. That boy across the hall. They’ve bumped into each other a few times. Then he remembered.

“Hey, aren’t you from Columbia, too? I see you around c-campus, sometimes. I think. I d-don’t know, I t-think I’m a bit delirious right n-n-now.” Neil managed to get out. He heard something clacking. He realized it was his own teeth. He reached up his face to cup it with his hands.

The stranger-not-stranger smiles a little bit. “Yeah. You were in that one play back in summer, _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_.” Neil tried to reply, but he couldn’t say something without his teeth messing it up. It was then that he handed him the blanket with a concerned frown. “You’re cold,” He told him when Neil looked at it questioningly.

Neil shook his head and then pointed at the other boy. _What about you?_ He tried to say through his gestures. Some snow fell on the other boy’s blanket.

“Then we’ll share it.” The boy shifted closer to him, and Neil was about to protest. He didn’t even know him yet, and he valued his personal space greatly. But before he could even back off, the blond boy had already thrown the blanket over both of their bodies. He could feel the warmth from the blanket and the other’s body radiating to him in waves. It felt glorious.

He clutched the other end of the blanket tightly around him. “T-thanks,” He said, looking at the traffic, because the other boy was too close for him to look at comfortably. His teeth started to clatter less. “So, y-you’ve seen _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_.”

“Yeah. You were great as Puck.” Neil snorted through his nose, a smile forming on his lips.

“It was by my theatre organization – you’ve heard of Stage, right? – but it also helped my grades for my acting class.” Neil explained, feeling freer to talk now that his teeth had completely stopped clattering.

“Oh, so you’re majoring in theatre?” The blond boy asked.

“Yeah, man.” Neil replied. “How about you? What are you at Columbia at for?”

“Creative writing.” He said with a timid smile.

“Oh man, we need writers in Stage. We rarely come up with original plays, always adaptations.”

Before the other boy could reply, though, the fire department had already arrived. Firemen began to jump down the truck and a couple of them ran into the apartment complex. One started to ask questions if anybody was left inside the building. So far, everyone was safe outside.

Neil made a comment under his breath about his phone while the same fireman asked them to evacuate the premises. The other boy helped him up. “Well, I left everything, if that helps.”

Neil laughed, adjusting the blanket that managed to keep two grown men warm. He hefted his laptop in his other arm. “It doesn’t help either of us, but it made me laugh. Hey, I haven’t caught your name yet.”

The other boy smiled a small smile as they walked away from the apartment. “It’s Todd. Anderson. Todd Anderson.” Nice to finally have a name to a face.

“Neil Perry.” He replied.

“Yeah, I know.” Todd said, and then hurriedly explained himself when Neil gave him a confused smile. “You’re kind of popular. And, miraculously,” The other boy took something out of one of his front pockets. He was wearing pajamas. How cute was that? “I have enough money to get us food inside that.” He pointed to a small diner across the street. “You wanna go for some coffee while we wait for the whole fiasco to calm down?”

“I am freezing and reasonably grumpy, and a cute person’s offering to buy me coffee. How could I possibly say no?” Todd was blushing, and Neil was smiling. Snow was accumulating on their heads and on the blanket covering their bumping shoulders.

Neil Perry still had no shoes of any kind on when they walked across the wet pavement, he still had an 8 AM class later, he still had that oral presentation right after that class, and the room right next to his was still on fire, but his night-slash-early-morning wasn’t turning out to be _that_ horrible.


End file.
